


The Hunter and The Hunted

by ToriCeratops



Category: Numb3rs (TV), Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Barebacking, Face-Fucking, M/M, Porn With Plot, Substitution Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23270086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToriCeratops/pseuds/ToriCeratops
Summary: Ian is always looking for his next target.Bright seems to always be looking for people who may be targeting him.Maybe that’s why they keep finding each other staring.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Ian Edgerton, Unrequited Malcolm Bright/Gil Arroyo
Comments: 17
Kudos: 68
Collections: Prodigal Son Trash Swap Spring 2020!





	The Hunter and The Hunted

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ponderosa (ponderosa121)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ponderosa121/gifts).



Ian Edgerton can see a lot more than most. 

It’s part of what makes him a good tracker, and the best sniper. 

He doesn’t just see what people are doing; he can usually tell what they’re thinking, what they’re about to do. When he’s training new FBI recruits he sees more in them than most of their teachers, not just what they’re capable of, but where they’re headed as well. Every year he can pinpoint the ones that will excel in their careers, the ones that won’t make it through Quantico, and he’s usually pretty good about pinpointing those that will scrape by, but eventually crash and burn.

He gives Malcolm Bright five years.

Not ‘til burn out, no. That kid would go ‘til the job literally killed him. What Malcolm Bright’s problem is, is that he’s too much. He’s too sure he’s always right, too reckless with his own safety. The guy is gonna get thrown out on his ass and Ian would put good money down that he’ll do it after nearly getting himself killed.

What Ian can also see, though to be fair a blind man could probably see it from space, is how the kid  _ reacts  _ to Ian. Teacher crushes are a dime a dozen and 99% of them move on and find something—someone—more appealing once they’re a full blown agent. Bright feels different, somehow. He never outwardly hits on Ian, but there are moments that are almost a little too familiar, like Bright has to stop himself from doing anything too incriminating from time to time simply on impulse. Ian has to admit he’s never been quite as tempted by a student. The guy is more than attractive, with brilliant blue eyes that seem to pierce through everyone they are turned towards. He can tell the kid sees almost as much of the world Ian does, though from a very different perspective. 

Ian is always looking for his next target.

Bright seems to always be looking for people who may be targeting him.

Maybe that’s why they keep finding each other staring.

The day of graduation for the current class is a long one. Ian’s glad he actually gets to stick around for it for once. Usually the second his teaching portion is over the agency has him shipped off somewhere else. But apparently they’re able to let him actually have a few days off.

He’s shocked that evening, when he slips into his favorite bar in Fredericksburg around the block from his own apartment to grab a drink and actually sees one of his students.

Malcolm Bright, as a matter of fact.

As he watches the young man share bar food and drinks with two other people, suddenly every interaction they’ve had makes perfect sense from Bright’s point of view. 

The couple he’s with can’t be his parents, nowhere near old enough. But they’re friendly—close. The woman has long, dark black hair and beautifully soft features. It’s her husband, however, that makes Ian’s brows go high in shock.

He’d always heard the joke that everyone has a doppelganger out there somewhere, not that he’d ever believed it. But damn if he’s not covertly looking at a man that could be his evil twin. Goatee and all. 

Well, Ian’s probably the evil one. He can admit that much about himself.

It’s their interactions that grab his attention, though. Despite being someone who is always on the lookout, always scanning every room and crowd he’s in, Bright seems to only have eyes for the older guy.. Every time the guy looks away the kid’s brilliant blue eyes stare wistfully at him in that way that you usually only see in cheesy romance movies. And he has no idea what else is going on around their little corner of the world, otherwise he likely would have spotted Ian ages ago. 

He thinks back to their lessons, the moments where Ian had touched him to correct form or to offer a pat on the shoulder for a job well done, how Bright would sometimes flinch, or his eyes would flutter closed. On one memorable occasion he’d bitten his bottom lip in such a way Ian had to force himself to close his eyes so his own gaze wouldn’t linger inappropriately. 

Kind of like the kid is doing right now while watching the husband and wife whisper something to one another and giggle.

Oh yeah, the crush had never been a teacher crush.

He knocks back the rest of his beer and makes a decision. Ian has always prided himself on being a good man, deep down. But he’s also a man who knows exactly how to get what he wants. He sees a target, adjusts as needed, and fires.

When Malcolm slips away from the table to head towards the restrooms in the back, Ian quietly goes to wait in the corner by the door that leads there.

It’s a quiet little hallway, cut off from the noise of the main area and just light enough to see. The second the kid comes out he calls to him.

“Bright.”

“Gil?” Bright turns around and spots Ian leaning against the wall and his eyes go wide in shock. “Agent Edgerton!” Ian smirks and slowly backs him up into the opposite corner. For a moment he’s worried he’s misjudged this due to a flash of fear in the kid’s eyes but once his back is against the wall Bright doesn’t exactly look like he really wants to get away.

“Oh, so do I sound like him too?” 

Bright blinks up at Ian and breathes heavily, then swallows, but doesn’t look away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You do,” Ian corrects him, daring to bring a hand up to the kid’s face and run his fingers lightly down the side of his cheek and along his jaw. “You absolutely do, Bright.”

“What makes you think it’s like that?” Bright’s voice drops to a whisper and he leans into the touch like’s he’s fucking  _ starved  _ for it. 

“I’m a sniper,” he reminds the kid. “I see everything.” Ian leans even further in, letting one of his knees press between Bright’s legs while he ghosts his own lips over a long, pale neck and speaks quietly. “How long have you wanted him?”

Bright moans and tilts his head for Ian, which makes Ian’s stomach twist with a sharp pang of arousal and want. “Too long,” Bright breathes out, bringing his hands up to Ian’s arms to hold on. “What are you doing?”

“I’m a man,” Ian starts with the lightest of kisses to Bright’s pulse point, “who has gone far too long without sex, offering to give another man—a very attractive one at that—exactly what he’s looking for.” He makes a show of glancing over his shoulder towards the exit that leads back to the main dining area. “Well, at least a good substitution. If he’s willing to take it.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Give me your phone.” 

“What? No.” 

“Bright. Phone.” Bright jerks and his eyes flutter closed while he catches his breath. Ian nearly purrs at how he feels the kid rock his hips against the older man’s leg, cock getting harder against him at the command. Malcolm does as he’s told. He puts his phone number under a new contact labeled simply ‘Ian’. Hopefully Bright will take that as permission to call him by his first name.

“Tonight,” Ian teases Bright’s lips with his own, backing off when the kid tries to raise up and properly seal them together. “When you’re back in your apartment all alone,” he drags a hand down Bright’s chest, “and he’s gone to his hotel room with that beautiful wife of his without you because he’s too good of a man to touch you, to give you what you need? You call me.” Bright moans when Ian finally lets his fingers dip further, cupping the hard bulge beneath the younger man’s pants and giving him a firm and promising squeeze. “I’ll take care of everything.”

Then he steps back, pleased to see Bright’s chest rising and falling heavily and a flush on his cheeks while he keeps his eyes closed, trying to regain a sense of balance. The kid clears his throat and Ian can see him trying to hold back a smile, to keep his hands to himself and already reaching out to beg for more. He slips the phone back in Bright’s front pocket then leaves him there to gather his wits.

Ian decides that he’s  _ definitely  _ the evil twin in this scenario. 

* * *

  
  
  


The rest of Malcolm's evening is… awkward, to say the least. He can barely look Gil in the eyes with the memory of Agent Edgerton's body pressed against his or the way his breath had felt against Malcolms lips. They are absolutely different men and the differences aren't hard to spot. Gil's eyes are softer and a richer shade of brown. His skin isn't as sun kissed and weathered, though the agent wears his ruggedness well. But when Malcolm closes his eyes and puts them side by side there's not a single difference that really matters… not when it comes to what Edgerton—Ian, he had put in Malcolm's phone—is offering him. 

Every time Gil touches him the rest of the night it's more difficult than it's ever been in Malcolm's  _ life  _ to not react, to just smile and dip his head or give his own affectionate but familial push back. Each laugh, each look, each pat on the shoulder twists Malcolm's gut up with so much want he's starting to fall apart. 

When he walks them back to their hotel, Malcolm hugs Jackie first. She reminds him of how proud they are of everything he's done, everything he's accomplished and overcome. Then, Malcolm hugs her husband. He holds Gil tight and hates himself for how much he wants but can never have. Gil's hold is tight and warm, lingering in a way that Malcolm aches to mean more but will never be anything but this. 

The second the hotel door slides shut and he turns towards his apartment building, Malcolm grabs his phone. 

He can’t believe he’s doing this. But he doesn’t even hesitate. 

Malcolm calls Ian.

“Edgerton.”

He picks up on the second ring.

“I’m willing to take it. Whatever you’re offering.”

“Bright?” Ian sounds like he’s pleasantly surprised, like there’s a smile on his face. Malcolm pictures it, the mix of excitement with a predatory gleam in his eyes. 

They don’t make small talk, or swap any pleasantries. The conversation is quick and to the point, Malcolm letting him know where he lives and Ian giving a few, simple instructions.

He’s to shower, but not dress when he’s done, and Ian will be at Malcolm’s apartment in twenty minutes. 

Which gives Malcolm just enough time to get home and clean up, and zero time to second guess what he’s done and start to panic. 

Well, almost zero time. 

He steps out of the shower with a towel tied around his hips just as there’s a knock on his door. The short walk from point A to point B is enough to get his heart already racing in anticipation. When he grips the knob, he pauses to take a deep breath.

“Ian.”

Ian Edgerton is standing in his hallway in a tight black T shirt and comfortable looking jeans with a smirk and an appreciative flick of his eyes over Malcolm’s almost completely bare, still damp body. 

“If I do anything you don’t want me to do,” he starts as the door closes and he presses Malcolm back against it, “just say stop.”

Malcolm can’t look away from the deep brown of his eyes, gets so lost in them so quickly he takes a little longer to respond. “No safe words?”

“Have you ever actually done anything that required a safe word?” Malcolm shakes his head, not that he’s opposed to it of course. “Well then we aren’t about to start tonight. I’m gonna boss you around a little, maybe spank you if you deserve it, but the worst pain you should feel is a tug of your hair, got it?”

_ Fuck,  _ he sounds just like Gil. Even his cadence and teasing is just how his long time friend speaks to him. It’s just the words that are a little off. Malcolm swallows and tries to steel his resolve. He’d asked for this, he wants to look at this man and have these memories. It’s a damn sight better choosing to indulge rather than being forced to cope in the middle of a lesson, half hard and wanting. “Maybe next time?” He asks, more than just a little breathless already.

“If there’s a next time, sure. I bet you look fucking beautiful all bruised and bloodied.” 

Malcolm would let him, too—would let him do anything he wants, really. Pain, pleasure, doesn’t matter. Anything to hear that voice and stare into those deep brown eyes while he’s being made to  _ feel.  _

“Is there anything you want to call me, specifically?” 

“I might,” he opens his mouth then shuts it and closes his eyes like he’s ashamed. “I might slip and call you Gil.”

“Duly noted. And one last question… anything you want me to call you?”

Malcolm swallows heavily. For a second, the words are caught in his throat. But then Ian touches him, steps in close behind him as he drags his fingers down Malcolm’s neck and across the top of his shoulder. “Kid… or, um, City Boy?”

“City Boy…” Ian growls out into Malcolm’s ear, low and dangerous. Without his eyes open, without looking at who is actually saying that, who is touching him like this, Malcolm can absolutely believe it’s Gil, that it’s who he really wants. A shiver goes down his spine, all the way through to his toes and before he can hold back on it, he’s already moaning. The growl in his ear turns into a dark laugh and a quick bite to the taut skin at his neck. The lips are smooth, but the lack of facial hair makes it too much so, and almost brings him out of the fantasy. But he can deal, he can close his eyes tighter and dream this is real. 

Ian’s hands snake down Malcolm’s chest, thumbs brushing and teasing at the soft flesh of his nipples until they become stiff peaks. But he doesn’t linger, moves on as he curls himself against Malcolm’s back, still fully clothed against bare, quickly warming skin. His fingers are rough and gun callused, but sure and confident everywhere he touches. Malcolm drops his head back with a soft noise of pleasure at the way he traces the V of his hips, continues to mouth and bite and starts to suck at Malcolm’s neck, then, with a flick of his wrist, sends the thin terry cloth of the towel to the ground. 

“You’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you, kid?” His hands continue on down to Malcolm’s thighs then cup his balls as he rolls them gently in his grip. Malcolm has been half hard since he called Ian, but now, at his attention, at the drop in his voice that is so achingly familiar, the heat in his belly is raging and he needs more. “Tell me what you want.”

“ _ Everything _ ,” he breathes out instantly.

Ian’s laugh is muffled by how he starts biting at Malcolm’s neck, working a mark just below his ear that sends waves of pleasure through every inch of his skin and will be visible for days. It’s possessive, claiming, and Malcolm’s knees go weak. “You’ve got such a beautiful body, kid. Fucking gorgeous cock. Can’t wait to see what you look like falling apart for me.” 

He wraps his long fingers around Malcolm’s length, smearing the bead of precome around the head with his thumb. It’s been too long since anyone has touched him, and the image of the man behind him coupled with the achingly familiar voice means this isn’t going to last long. Malcolm whines as Ian begins to stroke him in soft, slow movements. He wants this to be drawn out, wants to taste the man, get fucked hard, be  _ wrecked,  _ and broken by him. 

Malcolm brings an arm up to wrap around the taller man’s neck behind him, holding him close. “I want you to fuck me, please. Need it.”

“Mmm. Someone’s eager. Don’t worry, city boy. We’ll get there. I’ve got plans for you, though.” 

Without warning Ian grips Malcolm by the hips and spins him around. Malcolm is half expecting a kiss but is shocked breathless when he sinks to his knees and takes Malcolm’s stiff cock in his mouth in one fluid motion. 

“ _ Fuck _ !” 

If he remembered how to breathe he still wouldn’t be able to. Ian’s mouth is deliciously tight around him, his tongue firm and skilled in the way he lets it flutter and circle Malcolm’s dick. Despite what Malcolm had asked for, Ian seems intent on getting him off as quickly as possible, taking him in deep every time so that Malcolm can feel himself pressing hard against the back of the older man’s throat. He watches, amazed, as his cock disappears into those thin, soft lips over and over again, unable and unwilling to hold back on the cries of pleasure that escape his own. 

Ian’s hair is too short to get a good grip on, another difference from what he really wants, from what he’s always imagined. Not that he’s ever imagined Gil like this. In charge and sure of himself, yes. But in his dreams it’s always been Malcolm making the initial moves, working Gil up until he was shaking with need for release. 

But this isn’t Gil, no matter how much he wishes it was.

“Ian… Fuck, Ian.” Malcolm has never been one to come quickly, but Ian is good—dangerously good. The pressure from his tongue and lips, how he hums around Malcolm’s cock and hollows his cheeks when he pulls back is fucking sinful. It’s too good, and it’s been too long since Malcolm has had anyone touch him, let alone do anything like this. He’s not going to last and Ian seems bound and determined to make it over quickly.

He tries to warn him, opens his mouth to tell Ian to wait, he’s too close. But then Ian looks up, deep, brown eyes catching Malcolm’s gaze and it’s too much, too close to everything he’s always wanted. 

Malcolm comes with a shout and a hand gripped as tightly as he can manage into Ian’s short hair. The sniper doesn’t pull away though, just continues to suck him through it, swallowing every pulse as Malcolm’s legs start to shake and threaten to give out once it all becomes too much. 

When he finally relents and pulls off of Malcolm’s softening cock he stands slowly. Before Malcolm can remember which way is up Ian is kissing him, deep and filthy. He can taste himself on Ian’s tongue, chases the remains of his own release as the older man’s kiss threatens to leave him more of a mess than the mind numbing blow job had. 

“Fuck, Ian.” Malcolm takes a breath but Ian doesn’t seem to want to let up. Which is just fine by him. He moans as Ian’s lips trail along his jaw and down his throat, working the mark he’d started earlier on the soft, sensitive flesh just below his ear. “I wanted to last longer than that…”

Ian lets out a dark, deep chuckle against Malcolm’s skin. “If you think that’s all I came here for, kid, you are not as observant as I had pegged.”

“Forgive me. My brain’s a little mush right now.”

“Just a little?” With a devilish smirk he backs Malcolm up towards his bed with just the looming height of his body, yanking his shirt over his head as they move. Malcolm groans when the backs of his knees hit the mattress, taking the opportunity to run his hands up the finely muscled, tanned chest now on display in front of him. This is  _ absolutely  _ different from his fantasies. He knows Gil isn’t out of shape, but he also knows he doesn’t look like  _ this  _ under all those sweaters he wears. Ian is all long, lean muscle, strength evident in every inch of him, twitching just beneath the skin at Malcolm’s touch. "Sounds like I need to do better."

Malcolm can't help but laugh while he works on Ian's belt and flies. He wants to see his cock, to feel it in his hands and taste it. But Ian pulls his arms away before Malcolm can get to his goal. Ian gives him a light little shove so that he falls back to the bed, staring up at the sniper with wide eyes and excitement already stirring again in his body.

"Lube is in the nightstand." Malcolm nods to the small table and watches as Ian moves, enjoying every pull and twist of his muscles. 

Ian lets out a low whistle when he gets the drawer open. "Damn, kid. You know how to party." 

There are half a dozen toys in there along with two different types of lube. Malcolm doesn't bring people home much, so he tends to have to keep himself entertained. "You can use one on me if you want." He pushes himself further up the bed to stretch out and enjoy the post-orgasmic buzz still thrumming through his skin and watch as Ian thinks over the toys Malcolm has.

"Who can say no to an invitation like that?" He pulls out the bottle of plain, silicon lube and the vibrating, remote-controlled metal plug. Malcolm hasn't actually used that one yet—it had definitely been an impulse buy with the hope for a partner to play with one day. 

Malcolm's cock pulses at the sight and he trails his gaze over Ian's body again, then turns to reach for his pants in another attempt to pull the older man free.

"You're not getting what you want yet," Ian smirks at him and steps back, playing the tease, eyes bright with humor.

"I just want your cock." Malcolm sticks out his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout then curls his body into a high arch, running his hands down his chest and thighs. " _ Really  _ want your cock," he breathes out. 

Thankfully, Ian is not unaffected by the sight. Malcolm watches as the sniper swallows heavily and takes in every movement of Malcolm's body. 

"What is the most important thing I said you'd learn from me?" His voice has dropped and gone breathless, but he still moves with confidence towards the foot of the bed and lays the items in his hand down before crawling forward.

" _ Patience."  _ Malcolm lets out a sigh, the overlap of the lessons he'd learned from Gil and Ian doing strange, twisting things to his heart that he tries desperately to ignore. 

"Turn over, kid," Ian commands quietly, "and get on your knees."

Malcolm shifts and turns, pulling himself up to his knees and elbows and feeling extremely exposed but living for it. It is silent for a moment and he tries to look back over his shoulder, finding Ian just staring with a gleam in his eyes that tells Malcolm the older man likes what he sees. So Malcolm shifts a little, rocks back and parts his knees wider.

“Fuck,” Ian breathes out before getting his hands on Malcolm’s ass, giving his flesh a firm squeeze before gliding his hand up along Malcolm’s back and leaning forward, pressing a kiss to his spine and exploring for a moment. It’s more tender than Malcolm had expected, something a lover would do instead of a person you’d picked up in a bar for a good fuck. His former instructor seems to be falling somewhere in the middle and Malcolm has to bury his face in the pillows to hide the look he knows must be written all over his face, how much more of that kind of touch he wants. He’d asked for this. It’s what he wanted. 

He just doesn’t know if he can handle it. 

Ian’s kisses only make it up to just below Malcolm’s shoulder blades, his lips soft against Malcolm’s skin and sending lightning quick flashes of pleasure through his nerves. Then he retraces his steps, going back the way he’d come, just as slowly. Malcolm is groaning by the time Ian kisses the base of his spine, then gasps when he doesn’t stop. 

Strong hands grip his ass again and part his cheeks. Malcolm is held open and feels the warmth of Ian’s breath against his hole, then a flutter of lips, a tease of what may come. His whole body reacts to the touch, muscles shifting without conscious thought. When Ian’s hot, wet tongue slides flat and thick against Malcolm’s rim he moans, dropping his shoulders more heavily into the mattress. 

Ian is deliberate with every movement. When Malcolm gasps for air or groans louder than before, the older man does whatever it was that elicited the reaction again and again until Malcolm is nearly whining for it. He alternates between teasing licks, fast, mind blanking flutters, gentle sucks and nips, and firm swipes of his tongue, barely even hinting at a desire to go further until he’s suddenly pushing the pointed muscle into Malcolm’s body, opening him up with quick, testing intrusions. 

Before he realizes it, Malcolm is hard again, aching for friction or touch of any kind on his cock. But Ian is focused only on Malcolm’s rim, on opening him up tortuously slowly. When he apparently decides his tongue isn’t enough, he pushes a finger in just to the first knuckle, slipping in with almost no resistance due to the way he’s been playing Malcolm’s body. 

He takes his time, drawing more and more desperate whines and groans from Malcolm as he stretches him finger by finger, never pulling his lips away for long. Malcolm loses track of how long Ian works his hole, building the tension up 

“Fuck, please just fuck me.”

“Not yet, city boy.”

Malcolm drops his head and whines, “ _ Gil… _ ” It turns into a high pitched keen when Ian presses the lube slick tip of the toy he’d selected against Malcolm’s rim and slowly begins to push it in. 

“That’s it, open up nice and wide for me. Fuck, kid do you have any idea how you sound? All those filthy noises you made? God I can’t wait to fuck you. But we’re gonna do this first. Let me see how that mouth feels while I keep you on the edge.” The toy stretches him achingly slowly as Ian works it in little by little, pulling out then pushing back. Malcolm holds his breath while the widest part of the toy finally slips past his tight ring of muscle then curses as his body adjusts to hold it into place. “Think you can handle that, kid?”

Malcolm’s breath is hard to catch but he nods, eager. “Yes. God yes, please.” He arches his back when Ian presses on the end of the toy, already dying to get a taste of the older man’s cock, to feel it on his tongue, to choke on it. 

“Turn over and sit up against the headboard.” Ian punctuates his words with a quick, sharp smack against Malcolm’s ass. The impact is a brief moment of quick sting that fades into a pleasant warmth. It also shifts his body, makes him clench down around the plug and he almost drops his entire chest down against the bed. But he takes a deep breath and manages to keep his cool. Instead, he moves on all fours towards the headboard, going slow and rolling his hips as he moves. When he finally twists and leans onto his back he finds Ian staring just like he’d hoped, mouth slightly ajar and looking  _ hungry.  _

“You’re a god damned menace,” he says as he backs off the bed and finally shoves down his jeans and underwear with a little more force than is probably necessary. But Malcom isn’t about to complain, he’s too busy drooling at the sight suddenly before him. Besides, Ian doesn’t exactly look  _ angry  _ about it.

Ian is more than Malcolm could have hoped for, cock long, thick, dark, and already leaking. He strokes himself slowly a few times, thumbing the head of his dick while staring down at Malcolm who is suddenly breathing much heavier than before. A smirk slowly comes over the older man’s face. 

“Is this what you wanted to see, kid? Every time you stared at him, at me?” He strokes himself a few more times—makes a show of it. When he drops his head back and moans, Malcolm takes his own cock in hand but just squeezes lightly to help relieve the pressure that has built up from the sight alone. When he moves towards Malcolm, slowly making his way up the bed until he’s straddling the younger man’s chest, he continues. “Talk to me, kid.” 

“Jesus…” Malcolm has to shake his head and squeeze himself a little harder at the words but eventually manages to say in a broken voice. “It’s... different. But uh...” He forces himself to open his eyes and meet Ian’s gaze, then drops his eyes and licks his lips at the beautiful cock right in front of his face. “But I am not complaining.”

Ian runs a hand through Malcolm’s hair.

“How much control you got, kid?”

“Um,” Malcolm blinks and has to shake his head for a second to think.  _ None when you call me that.  _ “A little.” 

“If you get close before I stop, tap on my thigh.” He holds Malcolm by the chin and leans down low to capture his lips in a deep, searing kiss. Malcolm loses himself to it, closes his eyes and tries to memorize the feel of his lips, the slide of his tongue. Ian’s hand slips into Malcolm’s hair, holds him tight and guides him just where the older man wants him. “I want you to come on my cock,” he whispers against Malcolm’s kiss-swollen lips. 

Through the haze of it all, Malcolm tries to chase him when Ian finally pulls away, but finds himself met with empty air. He opens his eyes just to see the older man pulling up a little and fisting his cock once more.

Right in front of Malcolm’s lips. 

Malcolm’s entire body hums in excitement as Ian begins to feed him his cock. He works his tongue around the thick length as best he can while he’s not in control, but for the most part does his best to relax his throat and take everything the older man is giving him.

Which is a lot.

He groans around Ian’s dick, thinking of what that’s going to feel like when the older man finally fucks him. Malcolm loves this, loves the taste and the feel of him, of knowing what he’s doing is giving someone else just as much pleasure as he gets from it as well. The taste is heady on his tongue, skin soft and pulled taut and Malcolm groans, careful to keep his arms wrapped around Ian’s legs, hands held firmly against the tight globes of his ass so that he won’t touch himself. 

Ian isn’t necessarily gentle, but he takes his time at first, making sure that Malcolm is relaxed and ready for him before really giving him every inch. The first time he feels the hard flesh hit the back of his throat Malcolm jerks just a touch, both in reflex and at the sensations the feeling sends through his nerves. 

The second time Ian does it, the toy in his ass buzzes to life.

Lightning shoots through every inch of his skin as his hips arch up off of the mattress and Ian presses even deeper into his throat. 

“Fuck you look amazing like this. Taking my cock like you were made for it.” Ian stares down at him with his mouth hanging open, going from slow, long slides into Malcolm’s mouth to quick thrusts that barely give him a chance to breathe. “You like it rough, don’t you kid? Want to choke on it?” 

Malcolm grips Ian’s ass even tighter as the older man keeps fucking his mouth, saying more and more filthy things that lean into praising Malcolm for what he’s doing to him. He never lets the vibrations die down completely, changing their intensity at random intervals that leave Malcolm’s entire body a tightly wound cord ready to snap at any second. He’s right on the edge, a touch away from exploding for a second time but missing the friction on his cock he needs to finally let go. It’s the only thing keeping him from spilling over too soon. But the way Ian talks to him, how he seems to be able to keep him right there on edge, and just... the way he  _ looks  _ above him like this, it’s almost too much. 

Malcolm has to close his eyes. His body aches for release and tears begin to well up but don’t quite fall. Every inch of his skin tingles with the buzz of sensation, his lungs unable to fully expand while his throat is clamped tight around Ian’s cock, and his brain slipping into a fuzzy sense of floating while he aches to finally come. 

Ian pulls himself free of Malcolm’s mouth with a breathless curse, stilling only long enough to lean down and kiss a tear from the younger man’s cheek that he hadn’t known had fallen. 

“Tell me you’re still good, kid.”

Malcolm nods quickly, finally opening his eyes and nearly crying out just at the concern written all over that achingly familiar face. 

The vibrations in his ass have disappeared, but his body still hums as if they’re going strong. 

“Just fuck me,” he whispers, desperate. “Please. Please fuck me.” 

Moving quickly, Ian uses his strength to manhandle Malcolm’s body right where he wants it, laying flat on his back with his knees pressed up against his own chest. Malcolm barely registers the loss of the toy, but when Ian gets the thick head of his cock, slick with lube and pressed against Malcolm’s hole he arches his back and moans loudly.

“This what you want, city boy? You want me to fuck you hard?” 

Malcolm nods and whispers a string of curses and confirmations. Ian is much larger than the toy had been, and when he finally pops through the tight ring of muscle Malcolm almost laughs at the way he stretches him wide. 

As soon as he’s balls deep Ian drops down, planting his arms on either side of Malcolm’s body and rocking his hips in a few slow, teasing motions. “Kid, look at me.”

Though Malcolm shakes his head at first, Ian gets a hand on his cheek and stills him. He can’t open his eyes, he can’t stare into those brown eyes again. Malcolm knows he isn’t going to last and his heart might not fully survive this. If he doesn’t look, it won’t break him.

“ _ Malcolm. _ ”

Malcolm startles at the way Ian says his name and opens his eyes. What he’s met with is only familiar in the depth of their color. Gil has  _ never  _ looked at him this way, breathless and like he’s a second away from falling apart himself.

As soon as Malcolm is looking at him again, Ian snaps his hips and all thoughts except for the intensity of his pleasure are forgotten. 

He’s right, of course, it doesn’t last long—for either of them.

Ian is relentless, his hips strong and sure as he fucks into Malcolm’s body over and over, the friction of their bodies just enough that Malcolm can feel it all finally cresting, tightening up and spilling between them with a shout of Ian’s name after barely any time has passed at all. He shakes through his orgasm, body clenching tight around the older man as he’s speared over and over through every pulse. 

“Fuck, Malcolm. Knew you’d look amazing like this. Fuck you’re so tight, so fucking good for me.” Ian doesn’t let up, doesn’t stop when Malcolm’s done. He pistons himself harder, shifts Malcolm’s over sensitive body until the younger man’s hips are curled up even higher. There are tears in his eyes once more, but doesn’t beg him to stop. No, he begs Ian to keep going despite his body screaming at him that it’s too much. 

“Ian, Ian, don’t stop. Please…” He wants to feel it, wants to be dripping with everything  _ Ian  _ has to give him. 

Malcolm grips the older man’s shoulders tight enough to bruise and Ian’s rhythm falters. He falls completely silent, arms shaking on either side of Malcolm’s body. With one last, hard thrust, he finally stills, dropping his head to Malcolm’s shoulders with a long, drawn out groan as he spills deep inside Malcolm’s body. 

For a long moment the only movement is the heavy rise and fall of their chests. Then Ian shifts just a touch, tilts his head and plants a kiss on Malcolm’s shoulder, then another on his neck. Malcolm feels lighter than air. He turns his own head to capture Ian’s lips and kisses him slowly. It quickly deepns, both their hands exploring as they devour one another in a well fucked out kiss. 

“Fuck, you are amazing,” Ian murmurs between kisses. “You know that?”

“Mm, no,” Malcolm smirks. “Tell me again.”

Their kiss is broken by a laugh from the older man. He drops his head besides Malcolm’s and the movement is enough he finally slips free, pulling a hiss from the younger man. But the sensation quickly fades as Ian shifts to prop himself up on his elbow, bodies still pressed intimately together. 

“Kid, I can not wait to fuck you again. In every possible way.” 

“Again?” Malcolm asks, genuinely surprised. He’d assumed this would be a one time thing. Ian’s mentioned in their training down time the only time he’s ever really in town is during new classes. 

“Yeah, if you’re up for it.” Ian assures him. He’s touching Malcolm’s chest, fingers gliding lower until they start to sweep slowly through the cooling come on Malcolm’s stomach. “Maybe… next time I’m in town.” His hand dips lower down Malcolm’s body. “Or tomorrow.” Ian touches Malcolm's over sensitive cock which makes him gasp with a high pitched noise. “Or in the morning.” When his fingers slip even lower to dip into his fucked out and dripping hole Malcolm starts to squirm. “Or in an hour.”

Ian’s body holds Malcom’s down so he can’t really get away from the two fingers pressing in deep. But the older man kisses him to capture the whines, to keep him from protesting. 

‘Again’ in any sense of the word is a terrible fucking idea whether it’s now or a week from now and there is no way in hell it doesn’t all go up in smoke due to the reason this all got started. Not to mention everything else wrong in his life. 

Malcolm hums against Ian’s lips and smiles. “Absolutely.” 

He’s never gotten a hang of that self-preservation thing anyway.

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
